43

PRINCE TANAKA HEARD the Mississippi’s shrill whistle split the stillness of the early morning as he raced his horse at breakneck speed along a narrow, woodland track high above Kurihama. He was riding at the head of his samurai guard troop and when they reached a wider road winding along an open ridge a few minutes later, he slowed his mount to a walk and turned in the saddle to look down towards the coast. Through holes in the patchy mist he could see the two massive black ships or the foreign barbarians, and both were sending long smudges of smoke skyward as they steamed south on the mirror- calm waters of the bay. Because there was no wind, all the canvas of the steamers remained furled, and he could see that the two sailing sloops-of-war had been forced to remain stationary at their anchorages.
‘We have almost run out of time,’ he said grimly over his shoulder to Gotaro, who had reined in beside him. ‘We have only two observation posts left to check - and the black ships are already preparing to aim their guns at Kurihama.’
Both men were breathing hard from the exertion of the ride and the guard captain nodded wordlessly as he gazed down into the bay. With the onset of the day, the winding dirt road onto which they had come out was beginning to fill up with reserve columns of infantry moving quickly and silently to new locations around Kurihama. Military mule-trains heavily laden with food were also beginning to appear among local peasants hauling their farm produce to market on their backs. Occasional civilian palanquins bobbed among the tramping columns, and when Tanaka and his escort got moving again, some of the bodyguards had to ride ahead of him shouting and gesticulating with their swords to cut a passage through the growing swarms of men and animals.
‘Our next post is about a mile from here snapped Tanaka at the men around him, as he turned onto a deserted woodland track again and urged his horse into a gallop. ‘After that there is only one left. Follow my example! We must ride as hard as we can!’
The guards leaned low over the necks of their mounts as they spurred furiously forward through the woods at Tanaka’s heels. It was the third time since midnight that they had checked the string of observation posts which he had set up in a last act of desperation along the high escarpment overlooking the bay. Twenty or thirty of his best cavalry samurai had been stationed in discreet bivouacs at the junctions of all known tracks leading down to the coast. They had been given strict orders not to attack but to inform him immediately of any suspicious armed column that might be transporting the captured foreign barbarian to Kurihama. But, as the night dragged on and dawn broke, no sightings at all had been reported. At first he had waited at a central camp to which messengers were ordered to bring information; then, as the empty hours ticked by, he had himself begun patrolling impatiently back and forth along the observation posts at a rapid gallop, followed by his hard-pressed guard troop. But as each bivouac was approached, the disconsolate attitudes of the waiting warriors had always told their own story, even before they were questioned. Despite his mounting inner tension, however, Tanaka’s outward demeanour had remained unemotional in the face of each new disappointment, and when he reined in his sweating horse at the penultimate post set up in a roadside copse, he watched with an expressionless face as the post’s commander bowed elaborately low in greeting to compensate for having nothing to report.
‘Have you seen nothing at all suspicious?’ asked Tanaka in a tight voice, glancing towards the nearby road where peasants were straggling past in groups. ‘Are you quite sure?’
‘Unhappily I am quite certain, O Kami-san,’ replied the post commander in a regretful tone. ‘We have scrutinized every passing column and every individual most carefully. There has been no sign at all of what you are seeking.’
Tanaka nodded curtly in acknowledgement and the commander began to bow low again, but was distracted by a sudden commotion of galloping hoofs approaching along the road from the south. Both men turned their heads sharply as two Kago clan samurai from the last observation post a mile away swung their horses into the bivouac in a swirl of dust. A scrawny, half-naked prisoner, bound hand and foot, was slung across the neck of the leading horse, and its rider leapt from the saddle and bowed quickly on recognizing Tanaka.
‘What is this?’ demanded the nobleman, a gleam of hope appearing suddenly in his eyes. ‘Who is your captive?’
The leading samurai pulled the hobbled prisoner from his horse and forced him roughly to his knees in front of Tanaka. ‘He’s a chair-bearer, O Kami-san. We captured him a few minutes ago in the hills above our post, where we were patrolling.’ Breathing quickly, the samurai turned and gestured with one arm towards the steep, tree-cloaked heights above the road. ‘We spied a long guard column, wearing the crests of Lord Daizo. They were escorting a single norimono down a wooded gorge. In the mist we got close without them seeing us. There were many reserve bearers, and this man was among them. He stopped to relieve himself among the trees, so we swooped to capture him without being seen. He has told us they are escorting a very important prisoner to Kurihama - but he says he will be killed by Lord Daizo’s warriors if he says anymore!’
‘He will be killed instantly, where he is kneeling, if he remains silent,’ said Tanaka, drawing his long sword and approaching the cringing captive with deliberate steps.
The bearer, who wore only a loin-cloth and a sweat-grimed turban, looked up in terror at the gleaming blade. His eyes rolled in fear as the nobleman swished the sword suddenly before his face in a lightning movement which would have beheaded him if it had come six inches closer. Standing perfectly still, Tanaka rested the razor-sharp edge of the weapon against the base of the bearer’s neck and applied a gentle pressure until a slow trickle of blood began to appear on the steel.
‘Tell us all you know,’ said Tanaka urgently.
Trembling, and paralysed with fear, the bearer gaped up mutely first at Tanaka then at the watching ring of hostile samurai. Realizing that blood had begun to flow down his chest, he opened and closed his mouth convulsively but no sounds emerged.
‘Is Daizo’s prisoner a foreign barbarian?’ prompted Tanaka quietly, increasing the pressure of his blade. ‘Tell me now, or you are dead.’
The bearer began to nod frantically. ‘Yes, O Kami-san he croaked at last. ‘The prisoner of Lord Daizo is indeed a foreign barbarian.’
‘Good. Very good,’ breathed Tanaka, a gleam of triumph appearing in his eyes. ‘And he is still alive, yes?’
‘Yes, he lives, O Kami-san,’ blurted the bearer. ‘He is badly wounded. . . and also bound and blindfolded. But he lives.’
‘Where have you carried him from?’
‘From the region of our sacred mountain, O Kami-san,’ said the bearer desperately. ‘But we travelled mostly by night to cloak our path.’
‘Good,’ said Tanaka again, easing the pressure on his blade. ‘And what is the exact condition of the foreign barbarian?’
‘He has wounds to the head and in his leg, O Kami-san. They are bandaged but still bloody: The bearer shifted gingerly on his knees, easing his neck fractionally away from the sword. ‘He has been given water, rice and eggs during the rest stops. But he lapses often into unconsciousness. He’s constantly blindfolded and when allowed to stand, he is very weak and unsteady on his legs.’
‘Is he still wearing the garb of a peasant of Nippon?’
‘Yes, O Kami-san, he is.’
Tanaka looked up quickly at the samurai who had brought in the captive. ‘Is all the terrain wooded and steep where the armed column is descending?’
‘It is, O Kami-san - densely wooded and very steep.’
‘And the paths are narrow - with only room for men and horses to pass in single file?’

The samurai nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, mostly so, o Kami-san
‘And what sort of carriage was being used to transport the foreign barbarian?’
‘It was impossible to see clearly in the mist,’ said the warrior, shaking his head apologetically. ‘It seemed to be a simple civilian carrying-chair - a black norimono.’
‘Forgive me for interrupting, O Kami-san said Gotaro suddenly. ‘Shouldn’t I begin rallying our forces from the other observation posts, so that we can launch a lightning attack before it is too late?’
Tanaka shook his head decisively, without taking his eyes from the shuddering captive. ‘We can’t attack openly amongst such a great concentration of forces. If we did, we might start a terrible civil war - and that would give Daizo just the excuse he needs to attack and slaughter the foreign barbarians. If we are to succeed now, we must employ subterfuge...’
‘Whatever you say, O Kami-san,’ replied the guard captain, bowing his head respectfully. ‘But how can we help you?’
Tanaka looked desperately about himself, his intense expression indicating that his thoughts were racing. On the road another supply train was passing at a rapid jog-trot, and two or three enclosed carrying-chairs had halted for a moment to allow the long line of animals and their drivers to pass.
‘What kind of norimono exactly is being used to carry the foreign barbarian?’ demanded Tanaka, again pressing his sword against the bearer’s shoulder. ‘Is it anything like those that are passing us now?’
The bearer turned his fearful eyes towards the road, then nodded hastily. ‘Yes, O Kami-san. Something like the black one. It was just an ordinary norimono like that.’
Commandeer it at once, Gotaro!’ ordered Tanaka over his shoulder. ‘Hold the bearers and its occupant here - and capture a few other passing bearers, too. Bind them all and hide them under guard among the trees.’
Without a moment’s hesitation Gotaro drew his sword and signalled to half a dozen other guards to follow him. Yelling loudly, they spurred their horses towards the halted chair and surrounded it, brandishing their weapons. One of the samurai wrenched open its door and hauled out its shocked occupant, a grey-bearded official in a silk gown. Then the guards began shepherding the bearer-coolies, the norimono and the official back into the shelter of the trees.
‘Wipe away the prisoner’s blood with his turban, and replace it on his head,’ snapped Tanaka, motioning forward the samurai who had brought in the original captive. ‘Leave his bonds in place, and bind some other blood-soaked bandages about his legs. Stop a passing peasant and steal some clothes to dress him in. Then blindfold him and place him inside this norimono. Is all that clear?’
‘Yes, O Kami-san,’ called the samurai, rushing to obey. ‘Your orders are perfectly clear.’
While the prisoner was being trussed further, Tanaka looked searchingly round at his remaining guards. ‘I want six volunteers to join me. . . Six volunteers strong enough to help me carry a norimono a good distance on our bare shoulders - and brave enough to risk combat against fine swordsmen without any arms of our own.’ He looked each bodyguard in the face in turn. ‘We can disguise ourselves with the loin-cloths and turbans of these captured coolies. Now, who will join me?’
All the remaining guards instantly raised their clenched fists in the air and, after selecting half a dozen, Tanaka jumped down from his horse and began to remove his jimbaori and his armour. Two or three minutes later he and the six chosen guards stood ready beside the commandeered norimono, naked except for the borrowed loin-cloths and the towel-turbans which hid their samurai topknots. They watched as the prisoner, dressed now in peasant clothing, was bundled inside the carriage, blindfolded and swathed in bloodied bandages; then, at a command from Tanaka, they bent to hoist the single long carrying-pole onto their shoulders.
‘How far from here is the track where Daizo’s men are descending?’ demanded ‘Tanaka, addressing the samurai who had captured the bearer.
‘About two ri, O Kami-san.’
‘Then lead us there now as fast as possible!’ He turned and motioned to Gotaro and the remaining twenty samurai to follow discreetly. ‘Ride at a distance behind us! We shall try to approach silently through the trees, without being seen.’
He waved his free arm and, as one man, he and the six disguised samurai broke into a jog-trot, carrying the norimono on their shoulders. Following in the wake of the single mounted warrior, they hurried away into the mist, heading quickly towards the most southerly track leading down to Kurihama.